vain, selfish & lazy.

Tuesday, May 29, 2001

fiction for no one:

through the years that combined to form our courtship, i amassed letters, cards, notes, locks of hair -- the miscellanea of a youthful, passionate love. originally, they were stored in a brown paper bag on the desk in my room; when we took that first big step, they were stored in a closet; when that step ended with a stumble and fall, and after the desk ceased to be, they were once again tucked away in a closet, where they remained untouched for several months.

that i still hold on to them is a symbol of hope; that i was reading them again just this morning, a sign of faith reborn. when our love was at its zenith, they bolstered what we already felt; at its ebb, they were cruel reminders of happier times, if only for me; reading them again after months, they were revitalizing, 'i'd taken my old forgotten dreams out of the closet'. and while i was the imagining again a world with her as the star attraction, little did i know that she was constructing her own world where my part was written out of the final script.

through the lean periods in and out of the relationship, i've been tempted to dispose of it all. that is until a voice not hers, not mine -- then whose? -- beseeches me to stay my hand if for only a day. today, when that voice returns to plead it's case, as i know it will, i will allow my cascading tears to rise to in defense of my actions. today, i will cast them all to the wind and when the breeze takes them aloft they will find me again, already awaiting them, cut loose and drifting in mid-air, like all that of this world which has long since outlived its usefulness.
-fred solinger | steal this link! | discuss